Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors Differentiating
by iamchefmaster
Summary: This is my take on NMOES3: DW- personally, my favorite in the series. It is told in the POV of my OC, Anabella Smithson, and is about her experience at Westin Hills. Contains original characters from the franchise. M for language and suggested content (also the movie was R, so . . . yeah) *Disclaimer: Wes Craven owns NMOES; I own nothing but Anabella*
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT, under any circumstances, own the NMOES franchise. Sir Wes Craven, who directed and wrote the scripts, does. I watched NMOES3 frantically, every day, to the point where I had the movie memorized by heart. So, I wanted to do my own take on it. They have the scripts online, so I looked to that for reference occasionally. The only thing I own in this story is the character of Anabella Smithson, my OC :) Enjoy! **

**Oh, here is my reference (I don't know if I'm supposed to or not; if not, let's just say school assignments have the better of me): **** /site/films/a-nightmare-on-elm-street-3-dream-warriors/a-nightmare-on-elm-street-3-dream-warriors-scripts/**

_And in local news, two more teenage deaths have occurred . . both suicides. County health officials are at a loss to explain this alarming trend. _

I knew _exactly_ what was happening with those kids, and they _weren't_ suicides.

"Good morning, Dr. Gordon."

"Good morning, Jennifer. How are the burns?"

"Regular, menthol, ultra-light."

"They're healing up nicely," Dr. Gordon responded softly, quickly looking over the blonde's arms.

"I've been good. When do I get my cigarette privileges backs?"

My mouth gaped.

She _really_ asked that?

I really don't know why they allow teens to smoke in a treatment facility. If they're treating us for one bad habit, they might as well treat us for all bad habits.

He sighed. "Don't hold your breath."—Jennifer sighed and walked away—"Hi, Taryn. You don't look so hot, kid. Are you getting some sleep?"—she didn't answer—"I didn't think so."

I scratched my face, sighing in hopelessness. I turned to face the white wall, finding a spot and focusing on it—focusing on nothing.

Phillip (personally a favorite patient of mine) ran down the hall, with a happy smile on his face—"Phillip." Dr. Gordon tried to greet.

Dr. Gordon stopped when he reached me.

"Hello, Anabella." He reached up and patted my shoulder; I exhaled and turned around to face him.

"Hello, Dr. Gordon." I replied.

"How are you doing?"

"Uhm," I gulped. "Fine, I guess."

He walked away after that. Dr. Simms—the bitchiest doctor in the history of bitchy doctors—must have been around, because I heard Dr. Gordon say something he would only say to her.

"How is he?"

"He's cooling down. If he continues having these outbursts, I'll have to have him isolated permanently."

"Don't worry," Dr. Gordon assured Dr. Simms. "It won't come to that. I read the report on the new staff member."

My head snapped up, and I looked at the two doctors—yep, Dr. Simms.

"What did you think?"

"I don't understand why some grad school super—" Dr. Gordon started, but instead of staying to listen, I walked away.

Sometimes, my body had different plans than my brain—and often times, my body would take over for a bit. While I really wanted to listen to their conversation, my body wanted a bed.

"Hey, Anabella?"

I whirled around to come face-to-face with Taryn White.

"Hey, Taryn. Why aren't you sleeping? Bad dreams?"

Taryn nodded.

OK, you'd laugh if you knew why we were all in Westin Hills . . Bad dreams. _That_ was why.

"What about you? You don't look so hot, kid." She retorted, using Dr. Gordon's earlier comment to her for her own purpose.

I shook my head and looked at the linoleum.

"Same," I moaned.

"Oh," she whispered. "Same dream, or a different one?"

"I'm playing with these two little kids in a sunflower meadow and it's a really sunny day. We're doing jump rope. Then all of a sudden, it starts raining and the kids run off and I'm running for my life."

"That's awful."

"Dr. Gordon, Dr. Simms to examination, stat. Dr. Gordon, Dr. Simms to examination, stat." A voice said over the intercom.

Taryn walked a couple steps forward, grabbed my forearm and pulled me down the hall; we ended up in Phillip's room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own NMOES :( Wes Craven does (he also owns SCREAM! Yea!)**

"Okay, group is in session. Straight talk only in this room. Today, I'd like to start getting us acquainted with our new staff member, Nancy Thompson. Let's make her welcome."

I saw Phillip stick his tongue out from the corner of my eye, and I stifled a laugh.

"You've already met Phillip and Kincaid . . . and, of course, Kristen. How about the rest of you tell Nancy about yourselves?" Dr. Gordon smiled softly. "Will, how about you first?"

I turned my head to look at Will. There was a blonde I'd never seen before by him—that must be Kristen.

So we got a new staff member _and_ a new patient?

"Hi, I'm Will Stanton. And, um, I've had a little accident, as you can see . . . ended up in this chair."

"Accident, my butt! I thought you said this was supposed to be straight talk in here." Taryn complained, sticking the tip of her forefinger in her mouth. Wow, bad cigarette withdrawals.

"So he took a jump. At least he wasn't sticking needles in his arms like a bunch of lowlifes," Kincaid snapped back.

Taryn made some sort of motion with her hands—a silent way of telling him to "eff off" I bet.

"Save it, Kincaid. Jennifer?"

I never missed anything, so when Kincaid flipped off Dr. Bitch when she wasn't looking **(A/N: Anabella calls Dr. Simms Dr. Bitch)**, I laughed lightly.

"Uhm, I'm Jennifer Caulfield, and, uhm, as soon as I get out of here . . . I'm going to Los Angeles to be an actress. I'm gonna be on TV."

"Yeah, 'Lifestyle of the Rich and Psychotic.'" Kincaid mumbled.

"Screw you!" Jennifer shot back. She placed her hand on Joey Crusel's shoulder. "This is Joey. He used to be a debater in school but now he doesn't talk much."

Joey was . . . _mute_. His dreams silenced him in a way, I guess—he was afraid to tell people about them, afraid they'd get hurt, so he kept his mouth shut. And then, _boom_! He never talked again. But he participated in a lot of activities, helped out around the hospital and was silently a sweet heart.

Everybody looked at me expectantly.

Oh, I was sitting next to Joey?

"Hello?" I stated unsurely. "I'm Anabella Smithson. I'm in here for multiple suicide attempts and refusing to sleep." I whispered the last part, instead preoccupying myself with my hands.

"I'm Taryn White. The only reason I'm in here is because it's better than Juvie Hall. Also, I'm going through some very strange shit."

"Your dreams?" It was the first time I heard Nancy talk, and she had a pretty nice voice.

"Everybody has . . . bad dreams." Taryn said to Nancy, worriedly.

"Can I interject something here just to save us all some time?" Phillip asked.

"Sure, Phillip. Go ahead," said Dr. Gordon.

"Well, according to our kind hosts, our dreams are a group psychosis—sort of a mellow mass hysteria. The fact that we all dreamt about this guy before we ever met doesn't seem to impress anybody."

A series of mumbles was heard, all agreeing with Phillip.

"So, we go in circles making minimal progress with maximum effort," he continued.

"You won't make any progress until you recognize your dreams for what they are," Dr. Bitch told the group.

"And what are they?" Nancy asked politely.

"The by-products of guilt,"—we all looked at her like she was crazy; in honesty, I thought she really was—"Psychological scars stemming from moral conflicts and overt sexuality."

Phillip groaned and placed his head in his heads.

"Oh, great. Now it's my testicles that's killing me."

Everyone—well, everyone but the doctors and Joey—laughed.

**A/N: I swear when I first watched NMOES 3, Joey's last name was Peterson. But the official site says it's Crusel. And then another place says it's also the latter, but spells it with a K. So, I went with the official site and put Crusel. Better safe than sorry, right?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own NMOES . . Wes Craven does. However, other people owning various shows, cartoons, movies et cetera doesn't keep us from writing about them! So on we go!**

"Tell me what's supposed to happen again?" Taryn muttered.

"Okay. You're being attacked by the bod demon. Go ahead."

"Fourteen," Taryn coughed, after she'd rolled the dice.

"Doesn't count. You got to say the words."

Taryn took the cigarette she was smoking in between her middle finger and forefinger. "This is stupid!"

"Oh, come on!" Will urged.

She looked at Joey and I; we smiled softly, almost mockingly.

"In the name of Lowrek, Prince of Elves, demon begone." Taryn sighed—but I saw her smile.

"Good. You conquered the demon, but your horse is sinking in the bog. What do you do?" Will congratulated.

"I go to bed, and get a new horse in the morning." She smiled, stood up and began walking out the door, taking her cigarette and diet coke with her.

"Bye Will. Bye Joey." Me, being the overly generous person that I was, gave each of them a kiss on the cheek and followed Taryn out the door.

**A/N: My friend met Robert Englund at a convention! I almost punched him out of jealously when he told me! Lucky rat that boy is! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: This may be getting annoying, but it's a personal requirement of mine to state this at the beginning of every chapter. I do not own the NMOES franchise; Wes Craven does. **

**Also, do you guys like surprises? :p**

It was late.

Around midnight when I heard a loud pound on my door. Taryn groaned and looked at me with sleepy eyes.

"What's going on?"

We all came out of our rooms to see what the commotion was about. We all headed straight for Joey and Will's room—it's where the screaming was coming from; it seemed plausible.

"Phillip! Phillip! Phillip!" We heard Will scream; I looked at Taryn, cocking a brow in worry. She shrugged and we ran into the room. "God! Stop!"

"Phillip!" Kristen yelled.

Shortly after, we all joined in yelling his name, hoping he'd hear us—all but Joey, who was pounding on the window furiously, trying not to cry.

"Phillip! Phillip!"

I ran out of the room, hearing the others shout after me.

"Anabella! Anabella! Phillip! _Anabella_!"

When I reached the roof of the abandoned building, Phillip was still up there, looking as if he was struggling against some sort of force.

Oh god, he was dreaming.

I looked towards Will's window—I could see their mouths open as they screamed in horror, now worried for both Phillip and myself.

"Phillip!" I yelped. "Phillip, don't let him win! Please, _please_ don't let him win."

Phillip turned his head slightly, just enough to look at me, that scared expression still on his face.

"He, he has me . ." he croaked.

"I know. Don't let him win. You've done it before, you can do it again. You jump, I jump. We know how it goes."

Phillip inched closer to the edge, and spouted out a bit of gibberish before his voice became something much more sinister.

"You'll never win. You'll all be gone in the end."

I knew He was manipulating Phillip—both in the dream, and reality. It's why Phillip sounded so macabre.

I watched as Phillip's feet crept closer to the edge of the building.

Before I had time to process what was happening, I screamed and lunged myself forward, only to be restrained by a pair of well-developed arms wrapping themselves around my slim frame. Our bodies hit the roof.

"What the hell was that?" Phillip gasped.

"I told you . . . You jump, I jump." I shivered.

"Let's get back inside," Phillip suggested.

"OK," I agreed.

**A/N: Oh yea! If you haven't already figured it out, _there_ is your surprise. I kept Phillip alive. I had to, alright? He's like, my second favorite NMOES 3 character, next to Joey. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: We've been through this multiple times, what's once more? I own NMOES- no I don't. Wes Craven does. **

Dr. Gordon started group with "I want us to talk about what happened last night. I want us to all get our feelings out in the open."

Kincaid was the first speak.

"They're a bunch of dumbasses, that's all."

I glared at him, frowning. Phillip sat on my left, wringing his hands together nervously.

"I'm right here, Kincaid." I snapped.

"I know!" he stated, whipping his head to stare at me. "You're a dumbass!"

"What did I do?"

"You went after him, that's what."

"What was I supposed to do? Let him die?"

I could tell everyone knew that Kincaid and I were about to have a full blown argument, complete with a couple punches thrown at him—he wouldn't hit a girl, wussy.

Before that could happen, though, Phillip pushed me down and restrained me with his left arm wrapped around my chest and his right hand over my mouth.

Kincaid only stopped because Dr. Bitch threatened him with the quiet room.

I reached up to smack Phillip's hand away, but he moved it and I ended up hitting myself. His arm, however, was still restraining me.

"If we can't handle this, we're all going to get killed." Kincaid mumbled.

"Oh yeah, big tough badass. How long are you going to last?" Taryn seethed.

"I'mma last longer than any of you!" he snapped back.

"Well, just go ahead and fight because that's what he wants. Turn us against each other so we'll be weak; easy prey."

"Horse poo!" Kincaid barked.

"No, she's right!" Nancy interjected.

"I think we're all missing the point here. Phillip attempted suicide—something's going to have to be done."

The other patients looked at Phillip warily; I just scowled at Dr. Bitch.

I had a secret . . There was a reason I liked Phillip so much, a reason I was willing to jump off the roof with him. I was admitted into Westin Hills shortly after Phillip; it was after my sixth "suicide" attempt. When I entered the asylum, Phillip, Taryn, Joey and Kincaid were already patients—Jennifer and Will were not. Something about Phillip made me swoon inside, and it was a shock when I found out he felt the same way.

"How much longer are you going to go on blaming your dreams for your own weaknesses?" Dr. Bitch complained.

"Lady, how much longer you going to keep blowing smoke up our butts?"

"Kincaid!"

"There will be no repeat occurrences of last night's events. From now on, your doors will be locked during sleeping hours. We'll start a policy of evening sedation. For everybody."

Every sleep-deprived, nightmare-plagued patient in the room gasped; Nancy and Dr. Gordon were shocked themselves.

Phillip's hold loosened a smidge, but not enough for me to jump up and start attacking the Bitch.

"The hell!" Kincaid yelled. "Anybody tries drugs on me will get his butt kicked!"

Bitch pressed a button—probably to call security to take Kincaid to the quiet room.

"You just brought yourself a night in the quiet room! Now, sit down!"

"Fuck you! You sit down!"

"Easy, Kincaid."

"Nobody's putting me to sleep!"—security strolled in and restrained Kincaid—"Get away! Man, get away from me man! Leave me alone! Ain't nobody putting me to sleep!"

My blood was still boiling. But it wasn't because of Kincaid. It was because Dr. Simms had no compassion for us. She didn't care if we died or not.

Phillip wouldn't let me go until she was out of the room, and even then, he'd probably keep a close eye on me when she was around.

We all felt sad for Kincaid.

Despite our almost near physically violent dispute, Kincaid was a friend of mine.

I shook my head softly.

We knew we had to look out for each other, and I knew what everybody was thinking—"We can't let each other fall asleep."

**A/N: So, we're all on board here? Anabella and Phillip had a thing when she first arrived at Westin Hills. Despite the argument, Kincaid and Anabella are good friends. If you keep a character alive that was supposed to die, you kind of have to stretch the plot? Yeah? OK? OK, good.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: This baby (NMOES) is Wes Craven's, not mine! On with the story we go. **

The next day, a funeral was held for Jennifer Caulfield in a cemetery close by the hospital.

Yes, she died.

"Suicide . . . suicide . . . suicide . . ."

She went headfirst into the TV set, electrocuting herself to death—at least, that's what Bitch said.

But I knew, Taryn knew, Joey knew . . we _all_ knew that she was murdered. She had somehow fallen asleep and whoever this fedora wearing, horribly charred man was had gotten to her.

Now when will those damn assholes figure it out?

**A/N: I haven't said this at all since I started writing. R&R! Positive reviews are kindly welcome, and constructive criticism is as well. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: *speaks in a saddened voice* This- the plot, the characters (except for Anabella)- all belongs to Wes Craven. I own nothing. **

"Okay, straight talk only in this room," said Dr. Gordon.

"Is this group?" Taryn asked rudely, taking a quick glance around the room before her eyes landed on Dr. Gordon.

"Yeah, unofficially." He replied.

And Will, being the deleterious***** person he was, "Pretty soon there won't be enough of us left to call it group."

"Listen up, you guys. Nancy has something to say."

"I know who's trying to kill you." She stated.

"Don't humor us, we're not in the mood." Kincaid murmured.

"He wears a dirty brown hat. He's horribly burned. He has razors on his right hand."

"Who is he?" Taryn asked warily.

"His name is Freddy Krueger. He was a child murderer before he died. And after he died . . . Well, he became something much worse. Six years ago, he killed my friends. He almost killed _me_."

"Why is he after us?" Will inquired.

"Yeah, what did we do?" Taryn was on the verge of tears.

"It's not you. Your parents, my parents—they burned him alive. And now we're paying for their sins. You are the last of the Elm Street children."

The circumstances sent shivers down my spine. A small part of me almost laughed and told Nancy she was crazy; I almost burst out in tears because a big part of me knew she was right.

Instead, I squeezed Phillip's thigh. He squeaked and jumped a bit, before clamping his hand over mine, rubbing circles on the top of my hand with the tip of his thumb.

We all looked at each other anxiously.

"Mom and Dad—I mean, that's crazy. They never mentioned anything—" Will said before he was interrupted by Taryn.

"Oh, sure. That's the sort of thing parents tell their kids—'Good night, darling. Say your prayers. And oh, by the way, your father and I torched some maniac last night."

Will looked at his lap.

"So what do we do about this creep?" Kincaid probed.

"Kristen is the key. She has a very special talent. A gift," Nancy stated, awe dripping with every word she spoke.

"I haven't been able to do that since I was a little girl!" Kristen protested.

"You did it the other night," Nancy interjected.

What?

"That was _different_."

"You never lose a gift like that. You just forget how to use it. How about it? Will you try?"

Kristen smiled and nodded softly.

"All of you have this inner strength, some special power that you've had in your most wonderful dreams. Together, we can learn to use that power if we try." Nancy said, before we started the lesson. Or meditation. Or whatever.

**A/N: I know a big part of this is based solely off the movie, however, I'm proud of the little twists and turns I've been able to make with it :) So, yeah, keeping in mind "big part based solely off the movie", not everything will be accurate. I lost my NMOES box set and haven't been able to watch the movies like I please. And YouTube's a fail when it comes to watching movies. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I'm getting annoyed with this just as much as you probably are, but in my opinion, it's the right thing to do: Wes Craven owns every aspect of NMOES and I own nothing in this story except for the character of Anabella Smithson. **

"Let's just try one more time. If it doesn't work, I promise I'll—" Nancy was cut off by the Newton balls floating into the air. I gaped at them in astonishment.

Wow.

"We're here," Will said, voice full of amazement.

"Where here?" asked Taryn.

"We're in the dream," Kristen replied, standing up.

"No, we're not." Taryn rolled her eyes. "We're still here in the group."

Will stood up out of his wheelchair and shuffled forward a few steps. I almost cried. He was _walking_.

"In my dreams, I can walk. My legs are strong. In my dreams, I am the Wizard Master."

Nancy encouraged Kristen to try something. Said girl motioned for us to move to the sides and did a double flip.

"A perfect score. The crowd goes wild." Will said, cupping his hands over his mouth and imitating a cheering crowd.

"What about you, Anabella?"

"Me? Oh, uh, okay."

Phillip removed his hand and I closed my eyes. I felt a weird feeling jolt through my body, like static, and when I opened my eyes, I was sitting in a chair in between Will and Joey.

I chuckled, before leaning up to give both of them kisses on the cheek. Joey blushed violently as he gently pried me off of him.

Phillip smirked and stretched out all his fingers. A half second later, Dr. Gordon was attached to marionette strings and with each little movement Phillip did with his fingers, Dr. Gordon followed.

"Hey!" Dr. Gordon snapped.

Phillip laughed before relaxing his fingers, and when he did so, the strings disappeared.

"Dig this," Kincaid said. He grabbed a chair and started bending the metal legs—with no problem at all.

"Kincaid, please." Dr. Gordon shuddered. "That's very unnerving."

"Hey, check out Taryn!" Kincaid exclaimed.

We all faced Taryn, who turned to face us. Her breast length black hair was up in a high Mohawk and she was wearing all leather.

"In my dreams, I'm beautiful,"—she took out two switchblades—"And bad."

We could only enjoy this tranquil moment with each other for a short while. The image suddenly changed, and we were in a boiler room, screaming our heads off.

"This isn't real!" Kristen shrieked.

In a flash, we were back in group. The sunlight shone through the semi-covered glass windows.

"What's going on in here?" Dr. Bitch exclaimed as she walked into the room. "What's wrong with Joey?"

I looked at Joey and about gagged. Nothing about him was ghastly, but I knew he was dying.

He couldn't do that to me.

"Joey? Code blue!" Dr. Simms exclaimed, gently shaking Joey.

Doctors shuffled in to escort Joey to another room where they could operate on him.

Maybe she did care . . Maybe she just showed in a different way than was expected.

"Oh my god."

"Joey?" the words exited my mouth in a soft whisper. Nobody else heard me. I threw my face into my hands, and let the tears fall.

Somebody wrapped their arms around me in a comforting hug—I assumed it was Phillip.

I was so happy a moment ago, but now there's the possibility that I could lose _another_ friend.

Fucking Freddy Krueger!

**A/N: "lose _another_ friend." Jennifer Caulfield died, and even though there was little to no interaction at all between Anabella and Jennifer, they were actually good friends. Anabella just seemingly has a better relationship with Phillip and Taryn. Yes, Taryn is close to her if it's not implied thus far. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Wes Craven owns NMOES *exhales sharply* I don't own shiitake. **

The phone finally rang.

We all sighed with relief and Taryn picked it up.

"Dr. Gordon?"

"Taryn?"

"You've got to come to the hospital straight away. Kristen—she, she had a total meltdown. Simms doped her up and put her in the quiet room. She can't stay awake for long. She's all alone in there. Freddy's going to get to her." Taryn rambled on, biting her nails.

"Don't panic. Help is on the way."

"Just hurry!"

Taryn hung up and began pacing the room with a cigarette in hand. Will was sitting in his wheelchair, hands folded in his lap. Kincaid was touching the black spot on the wall where the TV used to be. I stood with my arms folded over my chest. Phillip stood close by, leaning against the wall, sighing exasperatedly.

Nancy burst through the door.

"Where have you been? We've been going crazy!" Taryn burst.

"Shh!" Nancy hushed her. "There's no time. Come on."

"Where?"

We all followed Nancy out of the room and into the hall, towards the quiet room.

"Our last group."

**A/N: yup, I love it! Tell me if you do too! Or if you don't! And if you don't, explain why please. Not trying to be beotch-y; more or so hoping for pointers in future stories. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: This is all Wes Craven, people. _All_ Wes Craven. **

We were in the quiet room with Kristen, talking, when all of sudden, the padded walls were being slashed by his razor hand. The stuffing flew out of the walls, and I screamed.

In a flash, I was at the beach. It was dark, no one else was around and you could hear the sea animals jumping up and diving back into the water in the background.

I was sitting in the soft sand, my head down and eyes staring at the grains of whitish brown. I was alone. Totally prone to being brutally murdered.

Or so I thought. And just my luck, it was someone I _didn't_ want to be alone with.

"Well, well . . . Look what we have here." His voice was dark and sinister. His footsteps were well announced, despite the soft material they strolled on.

I slowly looked up, shivering in fear.

His grin was something else entirely. His voice spoke evil, his presence itself was wicked. His grin, however, right before he sauntered toward me, was extremely malicious.

The hand that didn't have any razors—the left—clutched my neck and lifted me up. I gagged at the pressure being applied to my throat. He squeezed tighter, and I gagged again, desperate for oxygen.

I lifted my hands to try to pry his off of me; I sputtered, trying anything I could to get a breath in—anything to hold out just a little more longer. I felt lightheaded, and my hands stopped their struggle and fell to my sides. He let go, and threw me to the soft ground.

_"Sea_ you later," he chuckled malevolently. He turned to walk away.

I lay there on the sand, choking up some sort of liquid that wasn't bile or blood or saliva. It was green, thick and frankly disgusting.

A violent sensation resonated throughout my body, and without thinking, the static happened and I was in a dark alleyway. It was illuminated by purple and pink fluorescents, and was foggy, and smelled of alcohol and marijuana, cocaine and heroin.

I heard struggled noises. I ambled forward, curiosity getting the better of me.

Freddy had Taryn up against the alley wall, and was spitting rude remarks at her.

"Taryn!" I screeched, jumping on Freddy. The sudden force caused both me and the serial killer to stumble backwards, allowing Taryn to breathe again. She threw me a knife and yelled something—I was too caught up in my own thoughts to really hear it.

My left hand clutched Freddy's rough throat, while the other held the knife. I stabbed Freddy repeatedly in the chest, near his heart, the blood spurting like lava from a volcano.

"Anabella!" Taryn screeched, running forward and prying me off Freddy.

Right before our very eyes, Freddy disappeared.

The awful feeling panged at my insides again, and I clutched Taryn's wrist; the static jolted through both of us and we were in a dark hallway illuminated by green light.

Nothing seemed out of place, except for the fact that it was quite a frightening place to be in.

"I don't believe in fairy tales," Freddy's voice came from the other end of the hall, and Taryn and I could only watch in horror as Freddy jammed his claw right into Will's chest repetitively.

Liquid spilled from under Will, and I knew that to be his blood.

I gagged and threw myself at the ground. Taryn screamed and I didn't even have a choice in the matter before we ended up in a boiler room.

**A/N: In the first draft, both Phillip and Jennifer still died. Then again, the draft was written two years ago. I recently came back across it and _really _edited it. Then I decided that Phillip didn't die, Jennifer still did. Taryn still lived, but Will died this time (in the first draft, the character of Anabella had managed to save both Will and Taryn). It was a really rough decision as I'd already decided that Phillip lived, Jennifer died, and Taryn lived . . What was I going to do with Will? So yeah, killing Will off was sort of hard for me, because I love these characters so much! **


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Guess who owns NMOES? Wes Craven, baby! **

I knew where we were, so I didn't bother to ask.

My skin itched, and I went to scratch it. Clear marks ended up on my scarlet skin, and I suppressed the urge to hurl. I was covered in blood—no doubt it was Will's blood.

Phillip trotted up to me, wrapping me in a hug, not minding the fact that I was covered in our dead friend's blood.

When he released me, we turned around to see Joey hanging over a bottomless, fiery pit.

"Joey!" all but Kincaid and Nancy screamed. "Joey!"

I couldn't lose another friend.

Jennifer first, then I witnessed Will's death. It'd be Joey next, and I'd have to watch him die, too, I just knew it.

I'd take their places any day. It may sound stupid, but it's true. And if I hadn't saved Taryn or Phillip, I would have taken their places too. I would have sacrificed everything I had if it meant they'd still be alive.

There was a loud screech; our heads snapped up to lock onto Freddy's silhouette.

He was wearing his signature fedora and his dark green and red striped sweater. His claw grazed the wall.

"Joey, look." He pointed a razor finger at us and Joey looked up; Krueger chuckled fiendishly. "All the little piggies come home."

"Let him go, Krueger!" Nancy demanded.

"Your wish is my command." Krueger smiled, took off his fedora and bowed, before untying the tongues that were acting as ropes.

"No!" we all screamed.

Nancy got to Joey first. I got to him second, bringing along the others with my teleportation ability. Kristen—being the brave one that she is—and don't get me wrong, I respect that—decided to hold off Krueger.

But it was Kincaid's inhuman strength that saved Joey, Nancy, Taryn, Phillip and I—but mostly Joey—from falling into the bottomless pit.

Then Kincaid bashed Krueger in the back of the head with a piper. Krueger grabbed him and began choking him. I hugged Joey tightly, crying into his shoulder; he patted my back. Nancy grabbed something and lunged forward, stabbing Krueger with it—it was a spear-like metal. Krueger groaned in agony, chuckled, then tore the spear from his stomach and licked the blood off the end of it.

"He's never been this strong," Nancy whispered to herself, but we could all hear.

"The souls of children, they give me strength." He tore his shirt open and there were tiny faces embedded on his scalded chest. "Always room for more."

"Let's try this way." Nancy suggested.

We were in a long, dead end hallway full of mirrors. From ceiling to floor, wall to wall—mirrors.

"Kristen, can't you pull us out?" Kincaid asked.

"They sedated me. We're stuck here."

"It's a dead end."

"What the hell?" Kincaid turned around to face the door, but it quickly turned into a floor to ceiling mirror. And then Krueger appeared.

I jumped back, into Phillip, pulling Joey with me—I apparently still had his hand.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. Perhaps if there was more of me to spread around." He raised his arms, like a magician introducing a magic trick, and then all the mirrors in the room had images of Freddy.

Why am I on a first-name basis with this guy? Ugh!

Joey released my hand and curled himself up in a corner.

Phillip disappeared. Then Taryn. Then Nancy. Then Kristen. Something grabbed a hold of my wrist and yanked me backward.

I came face-to-face with Freddy, who was ready to finish what he'd started on the beach.

Frowning, I gave him my best "come-at-me-bastard" glare.

He dove forward, claw outstretched and screamed. At least I thought he did. I fell backwards into the glass; it shattered into a hundred pieces, and I collapsed on the red carpet.

"Wow. Did I say that?" Joey muttered.

I groaned and looked up at Joey, who was being congratulated by Kincaid.

"You found your dream power, man!"

"You saved us, Joey."

"You blew him away, man!"

"Put me down." Joey chuckled.

I stood up and stretched out my arms. Joey smiled softly before embracing me.

"He's gone," Nancy whispered—but we all knew she was speaking to us. "It's over."

We all smiled and gave each other a big group hug.

"Nancy?" someone spoke. A glowing figure dressed in a police uniform was levitating near the door.

"Daddy?"

"I've crossed over, princess."

"Crossed over?"

"I couldn't go without telling you how sorry I am for all the things I've done. I love you so much. I'll always love you."

"I'll always love _you_." She told her father, and I knew she was crying. She took a couple of steps and wrapped the spirit in a hug. Kristen stepped forward and smiled, while Kincaid, Taryn, Phillip, Joey and I stood in the background.

Joey was on my left, holding my left hand while Phillip was on my right, holding my right hand.

Then Nancy screamed suddenly. Krueger appeared, holding on to Nancy, and bellowed out one simple word—"Die!"—before she collapsed to the ground and he disappeared.

Kristen ran over to Nancy and gathered her in her arms.

"I won't let you die. I won't let you. I'm going to dream you into a beautiful dream . . . forever and ever!"

**A/N: R&R! Read the Epilogue and then you can be done with me, :)**


	12. Epilogue

**Disclaimer/Author's Note: ****Wes Craven owns NMOES and its characters. The plot is all fetched from here, and just my imagination. So, I don't own any NMOES characters, but I do, however, own Anabella Smithson, Nancy Lei, and William Neil . . ENJOY!**

We all went to Nancy's funeral.

It was upsetting that she died. She cared for us when nobody else did.

Apparently, when I was in Westin Hills, my parents had been in an automobile accident and died three days later. Dr. Gordon adopted me, but I kept Smithson as my last name.

It turns out that Kristen, Joey, and Kincaid had lived in the same area before being admitted and went to the same high school after their release. I lived with Dr. Gordon in Columbus, and after losing my V-card to Phillip, he and his family moved to Massachusetts so his dad could start his job as a professor at Harvard.

Taryn and I became really close. She didn't attend my school, but she lived in Columbus and attended a school in the district. She stayed clean and even joined the volleyball team.

As did I. That's how we mainly saw each other—volleyball tournaments. Her school was my school's best rival. In reality though, the schools got along well. Taryn and I would meet up at a Stop-N-Go burger shop occasionally, to talk about our lives. She had a boyfriend who made her feel like she was on Cloud 9 every day. They eventually eloped during their senior year, moved to Maryland, and had three kids. Last I heard, Taryn was pregnant again and had a steady job as an intern for a big cooperate company.

I, myself, went to college at Harvard for two semesters. I saw Phillip's dad, and he told me Phillip was happy and well with his wife and baby daughter in Phoenix.

Afterwards, I transferred to NYU to study animal science—veterinarian, here I come. Shockingly, two years after I transferred to NYU, I saw Joey roaming the streets of New York.

He actually recognized me first.

It was winter, and I was headed back to my condo after ordering a hot chocolate when my name was called. I whipped around, to be brought into a hug by a strange man I didn't recognize. But when he pulled away, those eyes were enough for me. I hugged him again and we ended up at my place, talking about our lives.

Joey's hair had grown a bit, and fell just at the top of his broad shoulders. He was single, but had a daughter with an ex-girlfriend of his named Nancy Lei Crusel. I told him I liked that name, and he showed me a picture of her—she had curly dark brown hair and the brightest smile; she couldn't be any older than three.

I told him about Phillip, Taryn, Harvard . . Anything that came to the front of my train of thought.

I met Nancy two months later, when the snow started melting and flowers began to grow. She was _adorable_, just like her father!

Joey and I began spending more and more time together, and it came as a huge surprise when he got down on one knee and proposed—I hadn't even known we were that official yet. In shock, I said yes.

Up until the wedding, I was unsure about us, but when it came time to say "I do", I knew Joey was the one.

I did love Phillip, and a part of me was crushing on Will. But I'd also loved spending time with Will and Joey in their room, playing their stupid magic board games, because I got to spend time with Joey, even if he never talked.

We said our vows, we kissed, sealed the commitment with rings, and honeymooned in Canada for a couple of weeks where we consummated the marriage. When we got back to New York, I was the step mother to his daughter, Nancy, and I couldn't be any happier. And sooner or later, Nancy would be a big sister to a baby brother named William Neil Crusel.

My dad—also known as Dr. Gordon—couldn't be any happier for me and what I'd accomplished since my Westin Hills days. And I couldn't be any happier either; I'm sure my husband felt the same way. And I'm positive my friends did too, wherever they were.

**A/N: This is all, people. R&R! Thank you for taking time out of your day to read the story, 'tis much appreciated. No more now! So if you have better things to do, by all means, fly my pretties! Have a nice day, stay awesome, and never stop being you no matter what anybody says- because whoever you are is awesome! :)**


End file.
